


Fire and Ice Saga

by misch3fbunni3



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: AU, Air Powers, Blood and Injury, Darkness, Distant future, Dubious Science, Earth Powers - Freeform, Electricity (solar energy), Elemental Magic, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fighting, Fire Powers, Friends to lover to friends with benefits, Geothermal Technology, Healing Powers, Horses, Ice Powers, Internal Monologue, Limited modern technology, M/M, Maybe not quite enemies but conflicting houses, Minor Chris Redfield/Jill Valentine, Monsters, Opposing houses, Original Character(s), Poisoning, Rating will go up, Sickness, Slow Burn, Swords, Tension, Violence, Vomiting, conflicting emotions, indoor plumbing, light - Freeform, something not quite right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29887710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misch3fbunni3/pseuds/misch3fbunni3
Summary: A small city-state of Houses shares land resources in the far distant future after a devastating war. House of Wesker holds the power of fire. House of Chambers that of light. House of Burton, earth. House of Kennedy holds power of air. House of Redfield the power of ice. Lastly, the House of Spencer the power of dark. Lord Redfield has been longing for a partner to bring a sense of belonging to his days but has grown melancholy as his search had grown fruitless over the years leading him to focus his efforts in protecting his people and putting their needs before his own. That is until a chance meeting brings a light so bright into his life, it burns his very soul and might just be exactly what he has been searching for all these years. But will they consume him before a true match can be forged or will he be forced to forever be alone?
Relationships: Chris Redfield/Albert Wesker, Chris Redfield/Jill Valentine, Sherry Birkin/Jake Muller
Comments: 14
Kudos: 19





	1. A Chance Meeting To Save A Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SherryMoonZombie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherryMoonZombie/gifts).



> This is gifted to an amazing individual who has been reading my works since I started back in May last year. Thank you SherryMoonZombie for being there and enjoying and supporting my writing and this is wholly dedicated to you and I hope it is close to what you have envisioned for this little epic tale of love and longing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance meeting along their shared borders prompts more questions than answers. The master of House Redfield is in dire need of assistance after a vicious confrontation with a poisonous beast and his knights are scrambling to save his life. It just so happens a traveling party from the House of Wesker is escorting a charge of the House of Chambers and are passing through the area. Upon hearing the commotion agree to assist the ailing lord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s not proper to switch between multiple POVs but I’m not a pro and there are going to be a lot of people in this so yeah, expect it. I will try and separate them by spacing shifting POVs.
> 
> *Will do thorough edit this evening—3/6.

“Piers, get down! PIERS!!” That was the last thing Piers heard before he was roughly pushed into the dirt as a solid body tackled into him. Then came the screaming of a man in agony he knew to be his lord and the loud hiss of the beast they were attempting to slay. A loud twang of a sword hitting thick scales echoed in the clearing as shouting erupted. Piers panicked as he tried to gain his bearings from the jarring landing, shuffling away from where he knew the large snake to be so that he could right himself and return to the fight.

Through the dust, as he continued to propel himself away from the massive snake, he saw his lord stagger away several meters from where he had been standing, “Chris!” Trying to gauge Chris’s state as he got back to his feet, Piers noticed Chris pressing a hand tightly against his side as he lurched away on the other side of the clearing, blood flowing over the open glove and covering the exposed fingers bright red. The brunette ignored his call and kept moving to put more distance between himself and the writhing beast as others charged against it, creating an opening for their lord to slip through and regain his breath from a distance.

Chris hunched into himself to protect his injured side as he took gasping breaths, face scrunching in pain as he leaned against a tree to steady his trembling limbs. Breaths were now constricting as his lungs tightened and he wheezed. He could already feel the poison violently race through his body, causing it to burn and pulse in tune with his galloping heart.

Gritting his teeth and attempting to straighten, Chris eyed his knights to see where he could fill in an open gap. He needed to ensure their safety, even at risk to his own life. He owed them that at least for getting them into this mess checking on rumors of large beasts along one of the smaller transit routes between Houses, “Shit.”

Seeing a small gap between Joseph and Jill that the snake was trying to widen, Chris forced his feet to move and his back to straightened despite the agony racing through his body, sword raised in preparation to resume the fight as sweat prickled along his brow and spine, “Make way!”

Automatically and without looking, Jill and Joseph parted to allow Chris to charge through, catching the snake off guard slightly, which allowed Chris just enough time to use the last bit of his quickly declining lifeforce to flow supercharged energy into his blade, creating a sweeping arc of ice aimed at the beast’s vulnerable underbelly, slicing through the thick skin and pouring its innards onto the dusty ground with a loud slosh.

The snake threw its body against its attackers at the sudden pain of being disemboweled, pushing the four off their feet and tossing them several feet back. Jill and Piers managed to keep their balance to charge forth to continue to battle the dying beast before it could manage to escape. The resources alone worth the effort of staying it. Joseph stumbled to his feet, and after quickly sweeping his gaze over Chris, who also was attempting to get up, reengaged alongside his compatriots to strike the beast down.

Chris was able to rise back to his feet but could not put any further energy into getting his feet to move until he took a few gasping breaths to try and slow his racing heart. He pressed his hand tightly against the wound that was still heavily bleeding. He could feel it slip past clenching fingers and down his side and leg, drenching his tunic and pants—definitely a liver puncture. Nausea raced up his esophagus, but he swallowed quickly to keep the burning acid of his stomach down. Chris could only imagine what the involuntary action of vomiting would do to his bleeding side were the muscles to contract, putting even more strain on the deep puncture.

Chris dared not take his eyes off the still fighting beast despite it being near death. He would take pleasure in completely stamping out its light as his own was quickly diminishing. Chris took a shaking step forward, his teeth clenched as his veins burned from the inside, his skin clammy and cold, body drenched in sweat. He took another step and another and grasping the hilt of his sword with bloody fingers. A shattering battle cry rose from deep in his chest as he suddenly sprinted forward to strike the beast through its eye and into the soft brain matter to exited the back of its head with a spray of thick dark blood, causing the beast to instantly collapse forward, jolting Chris’s body with the forceful movement.

Just barely keeping his balance, Chris withdrew his sword, and for good measure, plunged the blade into the undamaged upturned eye that still contracted, indicating that some life was left in the scrambled brain. Chris bellowed at the now immobile carcass, spital flying in his rage, as he twisted his sword, almost tearing the monster's lifeless head off.

Slowly, the sound receded as Chris’s lungs contracted, his knights frozen around him in silence and then small cheering as a hand clasped his armored shoulder and immediately, he collapsed under the force, no longer able to keep himself upright as his body spasmed.

Piers pushed Joseph out of the way, quickly turning Chris onto his side as he vomited, body convulsing. Piers shuffled armor out of the way and ripping the drenched tunic where he knew Chris had been bitten, “Shit! Shit! Shit! This is bad!” Blood was still leaking heavily from the large puncture. Chris had been lucky and had managed to avoid the other fang, but still, it was a deep wound and obvious that poison was running through his system and had for some time.

Joseph shuffled closer, “What?! When did he get bit?!”

Piers was removing more clothing to check for any other marks, not caring if his lord was half bare, pulling off his cowl and using it to place pressure against the wound, pressing firmly, causing a loud gurgling cry to be ripped from the brunette who was ashen pale, cold sweat covering his trembling frame.

Jill had kneeled on the opposite side, holding Chris so that he remained on his side, “This is… we need help now! He might not make it!”

Piers clenched his teeth as he snapped his burning glassy eyes up to Jill, who was just as panicked if not more so than him, “Fuck! It’s… it’s my fault! If he… If he hadn’t pushed me out of the way, this would never have happened! It’s all my fault!” Swallowing thickly and looking over Chris, who was heaving, body trying to expel the poison the only way it knew how as thick ropes of saliva dribbled from the gaping mouth, eyes rolled back.

Joseph paced but kept an eye on the settling corpse beside them that was too close for comfort; head clenched between tight fists in helplessness, “We need to do something! There’s no time!!” Quickly, he shuffled towards the horses and brought Mana over, shuffling her saddle items around to make room for an additional person, “We have to take him back! We need to get him to Lottie! She’ll know what to do!”

Piers stood, screaming, “The journey will kill him!”

Jill watched as the convulsions grew steadily worse, “He’s getting worse! Claire is going to kill me if we don’t bring him back alive! He’s all she’s got! We need to—!!?”

A loud rustling cut off the tirade, and a smooth voice startled the three panicking knights who all reached for their swords as a group of knights hailing from the House of Wesker broke into the clearing, dressed in reds and oranges minus the blonde man who was set in front of the pack who wore all black, “Identify yourselves. What are you doing here?”

.....

The House of Wesker escort party could hear the loud quarrel in the vicinity as they were passing along the House borders in their mission to return one of the shrine maidens to the House of Chambers. In their efforts to investigate, Jake, shrine maiden Sherry, and her 1st knight Sheva were motioned to the rear of the formation as Albert, lord of the House of Wesker, clicked his tongue to his own 1st knight, Hunk, to make their way towards the loud screaming and shouting. Wesker internally noted the loud screaming as a lasting battle cry and that of a man who was knowingly near death.

Several minutes passed, and they parted through the clearing to the view of a commotion of yelling House of Redfield knights situated around a convulsing figure on the ground and a large Yawn carcass. The Yawn was freshly slain and Wesker could only assume that whoever was fighting the beast had become bitten and poisoned, hence the collapsed figure. Such a large monster could easily knock any man off his feet, and Wesker was impressed that whoever the man was, had been able to fend off his demise long enough to deal an obvious deathblow, the creature’s skull utterly mangled.

They could hear voices, distinctly arguing about whoever had been injured, and they observed the man who was being held on his side, apparently still alive, yet likely for not much longer as the body convulsed violently, blood glistened in the sunlight that seemed to be pouring down his side with each uncontrolled jerk and gurgled breath.

The three continued to argue, oblivious to the newcomers. Wesker smoothly gained their attention as he was flanked by Hunk and Sheva, Jake and Sherry several meters behind them, “Identify yourselves. What are you doing here?”

Joseph and Piers immediately swiveled and stepped forward to block Chris and Jill. Despite their surprise, swords were swiftly drawn, in which Hunk and Sheva drew their own broadswords in kind. Tension thick as the only sound that could be heard was the desperate gasps for air from the lord of the House of Redfield.

Wesker was calm as these people bared their arms, obviously from the House of Redfield based on their deep blue colors, “I do hate repeating myself. Why are you here on our border?”

Piers glanced nervously at Joseph but took charge despite being the youngest and lowest rank, stepping forward but sheathing his sword, “We were investigating reports of monsters on ‘our’ border when we ran across this Yawn, and it attacked us.”

Jill spoke up, speaking frantically, trying to keep Chris on his side as his body jerked within her grasp, “Look! We don’t have time for fucking introductions. You’re obviously of the House of Wesker, and there is no need for any hostilities! Our lord is **dying,** and if you can help us, we would be forever grateful and, in your debt, but if you can’t, please let us take care of our own.” There was silence from the new arrivals, and Jill was desperate, her voice shaking, “Please! I am begging you!”

A loud cry from the struggling body had Sherry swiftly dismounting and running across the expanse, determination set as Jake dismounted and made his way after her, yelling for her to stop. But before she could reach Chris’s side, Piers was in her path, face determined to protect his lord, hand on his sword and partially drawn.

Sherry did not back down, waving one arm to try and get the young knight to step aside, “You moron! Get out of the way! I am a healer! I can help save him!”

Jake was suddenly in front of her, sword drawn and aimed at Piers’ chest, who had yet to fully draw his sword once he realized Sherry was dressed in white travel robes. He knew what she was, despite never having met a healer before, but because he now had a sword in his face, Piers continued to hold his ground, lips pulled back in frustration, “Sheath your sword, Fire Starter!”

Jake snarled, stepping forward from his fiancé, her hands now gripping his traveling cape, protecting her from any unsanctioned attacks, “You sheath your sword, Snowflake!”

Wanting to skirt around Jake, but not daring to take any additional risks than they already were, “Please! I can help him! Let me pass! You can’t move him! He’ll never make it! Please!!”

Sheva and Hunk had dismounted but stayed close to Wesker, trusting Jake could hold his own against the young knight. Able to step in if Joseph moved to attack who still had his sword drawn.

Wesker coolly observed the situation unfolding, curious eyes glancing past the bickering children and at the semi-prone form in the throes of death. He could not see the man’s face but could tell he had a muscular frame from where the wound had been exposed, blood still escaping the deep puncture.

Jill bellowed, her voice cracking as she observed her charge desperately struggling for air, “Piers, back off, NOW! Let her through! She’s Chris’s only chance now!”

Piers stepped back, fully sheathing his sword but kept a grimacing stare at Jake who also backed away, allowing Sherry to run past him to fall to her knees next to Chris and quickly assessing the situation, opening her pouch and pulling several items out, all the while whispering quickly under her breath.

Joseph stepped back towards Chris, crouching, not sure what to do to assist Sherry, who was moving with expert finesse, “Should we suck the poison out?! I’ll.. I’ll do it! I owe Chris my life, and I would gladly give up mine to save his!”

Joseph went to lean down towards the bleeding puncture, and Sherry immediately braced an arm out to stop him, “NO!! No... you’ll only hurt yourself! I can help him. I can neutralize the poison and heal some of the superficial wounds but not everything. Though, we will need to find a way to stop the bleeding once I finish.” She moved quickly, her hands tinging aquamarine as she kept speaking too low for those around her to hear, ignoring the silent stares. There was very little time left to save Chris, and she worked as fast as she could, his skin ashen gray and breaths slowing considerably.

As she worked, she directed Jill to assist, who complied without complaint, doing exactly what was asked of her to save Chris’s life. The process to neutralize the poison was long and tedious, but it was working, the sun having lowered in the sky announcing the coming dusk.

Wesker had dismounted in silence and, handing the reins to Hunk, slowly approached the lifesaving measures of his son’s chosen one, amused and fascinated by Sherry’s skill even still after watching her heal his sister’s unending ailments time and time again. That was the only reason they had been in the area at all in the first place. They were escorting Sherry’s return home from her routine visit to heal Alex, who had turned ill several years prior and needed constant rejuvenation every month. Someone had certainly been smiling down upon the ailing lord of Redfield this day that they were there to assist.

As Wesker stalked closer to admire the incredibly impeccable work of his soon-to-be daughter-in-law, he felt a small wave hit him, and a slightly unsettling feeling prickle his spine, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Slowing his approach, Wesker could now see the heaving form, no longer in violent spasms but not out of the woods yet as his breathing was still strained. Standing just shy of the lifesaving efforts, the feeling grew stronger, almost a resonating of sorts now, and his expression grew more perplexed as he was able to gaze upon Chris’s ashen countenance fully.

For once in his life, he was completely uncertain what was happening and why he was so off-put as he took a step closer. Sherry was tiring, he could tell as her hands shook, yet she continued to push her abilities, and some color was already returning to Chris’s face, his slow, easier breaths gently allowing his chest to rise and fall unimpeded.

Sheva moved forward, placing a hand on her lady's shoulder, as Sherry leaned back, supporting herself on her arms and letting her head fall back, groaning low, “He’ll be ok. I… I was able to neutralize the poison, but we need to stop or at least slow the bleeding. I don’t have any more strength to do more. I’m sorry.”

Jill smiled, tears falling at these words, and she gripped Chris’s slack hand, trying to hopefully rouse something from her lord, but he lay unmoving and unaware. Blood still trickled down his side despite the gentle breaths.

Wesker was frozen still, mesmerized by the unconscious man’s handsome features, who was giving off a vibration that was so obviously affecting his own lifeforce. He couldn’t quite grasp any meaning behind it, never having experienced such a feeling before. Wesker couldn’t ask the man either as he was still very much unconscious.

A sudden hand on his shoulder jerked him from his inspection of the slack handsome face, and he shifted his head towards the source. Jake. Jake was at his side speaking his name, trying to get his attention, “Albert, could you cauterize the wound?” Wesker narrowed his eyes, his mouth a flat line at being called by his first name by his son. There had been deep tension between them for several years, and Jake had never once addressed him as 'father.' Despite this, it still irked him deeply.

Unbuckling his dark cloak to allow himself to maneuver better, Wesker nodded his head as he moved closer, the feeling growing stronger as he made to kneel next to Chris. The feeling wasn’t painful or even a warning siren, yet it was unnerving though not entirely unpleasant. Looking over the unconscious man, he quickly took in the muscular frame and chiseled roughness, even more well-toned than what he could see from afar. Quickly pulling his sleeves up, he floated his gloved fingers over the pale exposed skin, noticing multiple older scares, small and large, obviously from past battles, and it took much effort for him not to trace them. There was no question in Wesker’s mind that this man was a true warrior.

There were also what seemed to be ceremonial markings along the pectorals and some smaller ones along the sweat-beaded forehead and brow. Markings that he had not seen in a very long time. They were meant as a true rite of passage from ancient times before the war and certainly not markings he had ever seen on anyone from the House of Redfield. This man certainly had disrupted Wesker’s normally smug, cold demeanor, and he wasn’t even conscious. Wesker was smitten by intrigue and curiosity and hoped their combined efforts would rouse the younger man to gauge his temperament.

But they would have to heal the last bit of the serious injury first. Brows furrowed in concentration, Wesker removed his gloves, and gently swept fingers over the open wound, blood glazing the tips of his fingers, and he brought them up to his nose, inhaling the scent and wanting to confirm that the poison was indeed neutralized.

Satisfied and not smelling or seeing anything out of sorts, other than the now vibrating hum in the back of his head at the proximity to the injured man, Wesker easily brought forth his own lifeforce. Wesker’s index finger blazed yellow and blue with condensed flame as he further examined the wound, not yet touching. Everyone was silent, knowing this was very much a delicate task.

The wound had been large and deep, but Sherry had done very well healing as much as she could. Not taking any chances, Wesker motioned Hunk to approach from his distant observation and looked to Piers and Jill, who were still close to their lord’s side, “Hold him tightly, this is not going to be pleasant, and I’d rather not have him moving and potentially causing more injury. Because the wound is deep, his liver was likely damaged, and we need to close off those blood vessels. His best shot for surviving this is for me to get deep enough to do that.” Glancing back over his shoulder to the young blonde woman being supported by Sheva, “You did good, Sherry.”

Wesker retracted the flame surrounding his finger until it was extinguished and, looking up quickly to Hunk, Jill, and Joseph, nodded his head to hold Chris down tightly. As gently as he could, Wesker felt the resonating jolt increase as he pressed his index finger into the wound as far as he could until there was resistance. Blood gushed up around the invasion, causing Chris to cry out and try to move away. Despite the resistance of the unconscious form, Wesker was satisfied he was as deep as he could manage and reignited his flame.

Time seemed to stand still as a pulse of heat exploded in the back of Wesker’s skull and forcefully drove down his spine violently. Wesker's body jerked as Chris spasm from the sudden pain of his wound being cauterized, arching his back as a scream ripped from his brutalized throat as his body tried to remove itself from the item burning him from the inside.

The screaming stopped as Chris took a moment to expand his lungs, and as Chris did, Wesker withdrew his finger and pressed three fingers down against the outside of the wound, hopefully closing it from any further infection.

Chris bolted upright, easily dislodging the several hands holding him down, and scorching cold eyes ensnared Wesker in absolute rage. A hand shot out and harshly gripped Wesker’s wrist in a brutal hold. Chris's hair was now blue and crackling around his face as frost particles wafted through the air.

Wesker was frozen by the depths of Chris’s fury, and it took him a moment to register that his wrist was suddenly burning. Wesker’s own hair was suddenly alight with fire and serpentine eyes glowing red narrowed, and he yelled in resonating fury at the grip on his wrist, which was blackening his skin from extreme cold.

As quickly as the exchange occurred, Chris released his grip on Wesker’s wrist, and Wesker had vigorously propelled himself away from the upright sprawled figure, both panting harshly at the violent exchange of power.

Chris jerked his gaze down to his hand, which was violently shaking, holding his palm upward. It was severely burned. The skin having bubbled up with 3rd-degree burns. Able to have a small moment to take several deep breaths, both trembling, their eyes met once more, and Wesker and Chris were yelling, teeth bared and snarling, fingers pointing accusingly at one another.

Chris was livid, and he hissed viciously as he gripped his injured hand, cradling it to chest over the closed wound. Wesker mirrored the other’s stance, never had he felt such pain before—completely unaware how seriously he could be burned by the cold.

Still snarling, lips peeled back and teeth bared, Wesker’s gaze dropped and caught sight of another vicious-looking wound as Chris shifted further away from him, the ripped blood-drenched tunic allowing full view of the blue-haired man’s chest.

Catching the shift in attention, Chris quickly jerked his shirt closed, covering the ugly scar, “Who… What… What are you looking at?!” Chris cringed as his wound protested, his body still very much nowhere near being fully healed, and he dipped to the side, Jill immediately catching him and holding him up against her chest plate.

Chris was furious. Severely so that he chastised his own people of why in the nine hells did they allow this ‘Fire Starter’ to touch him.

Wesker was quick to defend himself, baring his own teeth in anger, snarling, as he made to stand on trembling legs, still cradling his wrist, Hunk and Jake assisting at each elbow to take several steps back, neither certainly not amused at the sudden attack against Wesker, “I helped save your life! Fucking ingrate!”

Chris froze, movements of trying to push Jill away ceasing as his hair slowly returned to a soft brown to flutter around his face as Wesker’s words pierced through the fog of being ripped back from death’s door. The sudden peace and serenity replaced by agony and brutal awareness.

It was then Chris realized that something had happened when they touched, despite being unconscious—there was pain, but also something else. A resonance of sorts he could not place, and now that he had calmed enough to grasp the situation, the oddness of it bubbled to the surface, like fine silk running over his bare skin, like summer sunlight, comforting warmth.

Chris stared disbelievingly at Wesker’s still blazing hair and glowing serpentine eyes, “You… you saved my life?”

Wesker stepped back, viciously shaking off the support of Hunk and Jake, his own anger dissipating, his hair returning to a golden blonde and eyes as blue as the sky, expression wary, “Not completely, but enough to reduce any infection. You should be thanking the sky for us being here. Otherwise, you’d be very much dead.”

Relaxing against Jill’s chest in exhaustion, Chris examined himself, realizing how much of a mess he truly was, eyes sitting longer at the cauterized wound, which was expertly closed despite his violent spasms. Disbelief caused Chris’s jaw to drop, returning his gaze to Wesker, “You.. you’ve done this before.”

Wesker shifted slightly, eyes hardening, “Unfortunately, yes.”

Chris examined Wesker’s face intently, looking for any deceit and finding none, “Thank you. For saving me. I don’t know what ruin my House would come to if I... left... so abruptly.”

Wesker smirked, which caused Chris to shift as the small facial gestured seemed to lighten up the older man’s entire face. Chris’s muddled brain produced what he could not place earlier about the man and the odd feeling his presence invoked, even with teeth bared and snarling. Wesker was gorgeous. He was exquisite and likely one of the most attractive persons he had met in his life.

Yet… Chris couldn’t’ trust him. Chris didn’t even know who he was. He certainly did not trust that smirk, full of confident charm and manipulable intent. That smirk could convince anyone to do anything, and Chris saw it for what it truly represented—consumption. Consumption of anything and everything in its path. So very fitting for a fire starter.

Chris shook his head, trying to disrupt whatever charm-wielding magic Wesker possessed that was trying to invade his muddled brain, yet he could not shake the odd feeling still inching its way along his spine.

However, first things first, Chris grimaced in pain as he tried to shift out of Jill’s embrace but failing miserably, sinking back down. A young woman appeared in his line of sight, kneeling before him, “You shouldn’t move so fast. I did my best, but you still have a lot of healing to do on your own.”

Exhaustion settled over Chris’s features as his eye darted to the other people surrounding him, “Who… who are you?”

Joseph piped up, his arms crossed as he eyed their guests warily, “Sorry, you were kinda dying during introductions, Chris.”

Wesker grinned despite the obvious pain from the burn on his wrist, “My apologies, Lord Redfield, I am Albert Wesker of the House of Wesker. My son Jake and his fiancé Sherry from the House of Chambers. My 1st Hunk and Sherry’s 1st Sheva.”

Chris’s confusion was quite apparent as he slunk tired eyes between each introduced person, nodding in kind.

Continuing his smooth display, Wesker reiterated his question from their initial encounter, “And so, why are you all here?”

Piers rolled his eyes, “We told you, we heard rumors of dark beasts roaming and attacking travelers and farmers alike at the border, and we came to inspect to see if the rumors were true.”

Chris’s brows furrowed deeply, staring intently between Hunk, Jake, and finally Wesker, “Have you not heard of these attacks?”

Hunk spoke for the first time, and it startled several people, “No. Don’t have many crossings here.”

Chris was irate at the obliviousness of what was occurring at their shared borders, “Well, why are **you** here then, if not to check out these rumored beasts?”

Jake stepped in front of Sherry, who looked just as exhausted as Chris, “We were escorting my fiancé back to Chambers’ territory and happened to hear your little 'party.'”

Sheva stood near Sherry, the first intelligent suggestion as night approached, “We will need to convene a meeting to discuss these threats. All Houses.”

Piers stuttered, back stiff as he addressed the elegant knight, “Even Spencer?! I fucking despise those guys!” 

Sheva sighed, crossing her arms, “Yes. **All** Houses. Even the one we all dislike. For all we know, this is their doing, and I’d rather catch them in their lie than work around them.”

Jake added as he rubbed Sherry’s shoulders, who was shivering, “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

Joseph muttered under his breath, “Still, would not put it past them.”

Jill scowled, “Shut it, Joseph. This is serious.”

Joseph retorted, “I AM being serious! This has Spencer all over it! When was the last time we had a Yawn sighting, much less engage one!”

The group was silent, searching each other for an answer and receiving only shrugs.

Chris tiredly confirmed as he motioned for Jill to help him lean up, which proved to be of great difficulty as he grunted, holding his side, “We all need to be there. We don’t know what is going on, and it might just be this instance, but what if it’s not? Our people are in danger, and the longer we wait, the worse it will get. Trade may be disrupted, and despite the tension, our borders are still open and allow free passage. Am I right, Albert?”

Wesker suppressed a small shiver as Chris said his name for the first time, “You are correct, Christopher.”

Dark irritation was swift to overcome the exhaustion, and Chris had to suppress a growl, “Do **NOT** **EVER** call me Christopher. You may address me as Chris or Lord Redfield as it pleases you, but **NOT** Christopher!”

Wesker startled slightly, his smirk dropping to a thin line but quickly recovered with the upturn of one lip, presenting a small bow, “My apologize, House of Redfield, I meant no offense. I will address you as Chris if that suffices.”

Chris relaxed once more, bringing his legs up to lean his forearms against his knees, albite shakily, “It will.” Pausing, he sucked in a tight breath, eyes squinting in pain, a hand hovering just shy of the closed wound, “Albert, Sherry, thank you for saving my life. I am in your debt. Please, if you would find any of it useful, take what you will from the beast. We can at least share in getting something out of this mess of a day.”

.....

That they did. Both groups prepping the corpse to take back to their respective Houses. Sheva and Sherry had left to return to the Wesker household, deeming travel back to Chambers’ territory not safe for the time being. Upon arrival, a courier would be sent to announce the delay in Sherry’s travel. Once Wesker, Jake, and Hunk returned, announcements for a convening of the Houses to address the possibility of a new threat would be sent.

Wesker, Jake, and Hunk dictated what they deemed useful alongside Jill, Joseph, and Piers as they carved up the beast. Coming to a compromise to ensure the least amount of waste, they set about their respective tasks.

Finally having a moment, Chris had been shifted near the horses and into the shade for much-needed rest. A hand was tossed over his eyes to keep the receding sunlight from his eyes. The other, where his palm had been severely burned from grabbing Wesker, was cradled against his chest, a thin gauze wrap over the bubbled-up skin. Sherry had offered to heal his hand, but Chris refused, lamenting that she had used up so much of her energy already saving his life.

The burn pulsed as if it was a reminder. Of what, Chris wasn’t quite sure yet, but he had never encountered a situation where he was not able to touch another person, regardless of what House they were from, and it perturbed him greatly.

Chris felt rather than heard footsteps approach, and he raised his hand to peer at the dark-clad figure of the blonde lord with bloodshot eyes. Quickly, he felt that odd buzzing once more uptick, more incessant than he had felt earlier around Wesker. It had receded as they grew distantly apart but now felt like a wave of calm buzzing in his ears.

At Wesker’s approach, Chris hoped that there was no fighting over the carcass. The last thing he needed to worry about was any more tensions between their Houses than already were, which was little but still, the Houses had been keeping to themselves the last decade or so after violent clashes with outside raiders. Things were not quite peaceful but not hostile either. Chris was ready to offer Wesker the whole beast if just to get them out of his hair so he could go rest in the comfort of his halls, “Is everything alright, Albert?”

Wesker graced him with a small smile as he seemed to slink closer, taking slow controlled steps. A flask was handed to him as the blonde approached further, “Everything is fine, Christo—Chris. Sorry.” Chris arched an eyebrow at the quick correction, thinking maybe it was just a force of habit for the older man and not meant to be mocking. He gladly took the flask and drank deeply of the sweet liquid as a sign of goodwill and trust.

Chris made sure to avoid any skin contact with the other’s hand, at least for the time being, unsure if what he was feeling was also affecting Wesker. Chris tried to settle back after returning the flask, but no matter how he moved, nothing was comfortable, and his expression made it blatantly clear his agony, “It’s fine. Are we almost done? I’d really rather us be on our way back, and I imagine you do as well. It is getting dark, and with there being one Yawn, there may be more.”

Wesker crouched back aways, taking a drink from the returned flask, “Just about. I wanted your thoughts on when would be good to convene before we send the announcements.”

Chris opened his eyes back up, scrutinizing Wesker, but the man was solid and formidable. And a distraction that brought upon him that static buzz that irked him to no end, “A week, no more. This cannot be ignored. People are in danger. Innocent people. I won’t stand for any needless deaths.”

Wesker looked concerned as he examined Chris’s seemingly crumpled form and the agony twisting the younger man’s features, “Are you sure? Don’t you want time—?"

Chris jerked up and immediately regretted it, grimacing sharply as he tried to swallow down a piercing cry. Wesker lurched forward to help him lay back down, and once more, as bare skin made contact, it was like an electric current running through them, shocking them both. Each pulled back hastily, trying to be inconspicuous. Wesker sat back, putting more space between them, ignoring the sting in his hand where their skin had touched, “I’m sorry for earlier, but it was the only option to stop the bleeding.”

Chris, still alarmed at the sting in his own hand, waved it dazedly, “You were under no obligation to save me. But... you did, so thank you. And... I am also sorry… about your wrist. I was not quite myself.” Chris eyed the visible mark regretfully which was quickly hidden under a dark sleeve.

Wesker smiled, a genuine smile, and it was so infectious, Chris could not help but return it. Wesker reassured the younger man, “It was a natural reaction to experiencing pain, and you thought you were in danger. I would never think to hold it against you.”

Chris sighed at the honest gesture, relieved there were no hard feelings. Chris dropped his eyes to his soiled tunic, cheeks flushing as he pulled the material further closed where it had shifted open from his abrupt movements, trying to avoiding the gaze of this man who was so obviously elegant and refined, a true lord.

A shout caught Wesker’s attention, breaking the silent exchange, and he rose to return to his kin, glancing down at Chris, brows furrowed, “A week? You’re sure?”

Chris gazed upward at the tall figure, expression firm, “A week, no later.”

With a wave of his hand, Wesker dismissed himself and turned, “Alright, it’s settled then.”

Both parties had gathered up what they could from the kill and left their separate ways. But minds were racing as the incessant buzz dwindled the further apart Chris and Wesker separated, leaving an almost silent hum. It was not quite gone but not as relentless as when they were in each other’s physical proximity, and oddly, not quite as comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first shot ever for an AU of this kind. I’m really excited to build this universe and write another adventurous (and less daunting) love story for my OTP. Again, thank you SherryMoonZombie for the prompt to build this universe. I’m sorry it took so long to get it started! 
> 
> Not quite enemies but I am definitely going to throw as much tension at them as possible. Any additional notes are appreciated what you would like to see in future chapters.


	2. Return to House Redfield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris contemplates his meeting with Lord Albert Wesker and what it all means as the four travel back to House Redfield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to make clear, I am keeping ages for everyone the same as in 1998, except Jake and Sherry who will be 18. Which makes Wesker a father at 20 and William a father at 18.

In dividing up the Yawn, the House of Redfield was offered the large snakeskin, which was used to create a secure drag sled that had been quickly fastened together to bring back salvaged items and create a less jarring place for Chris to be bundled in securely, least his injury reopen during the long trek back. Though Chris highly doubted it, he certainly was not complaining, not having the strength to protest. Wesker was very… thorough in his efforts to stop the bleeding and close the wound.

Chris allowed himself to fall into a meditative state as he was rocked gently by the slow pace Jill, Piers, and Joseph had set as they traveled back towards the House of Redfield. He angled his eyes forward to gaze warily at Piers and Joseph, who were bringing up the rear on their own loaded-up mounts. They were there to make sure that the improvised drag sled upon which he was prostrate did not loosen or become unsecured, in addition to keeping watchful eyes on their lord in case Chris was to succumb to any further ailments.

Chris could not blame them. He’d been mentally prepared for many years that he would confront his death in battle, and not having offspring of his own, he had no profound worries of those he would leave behind. That is except Claire. He ached for the sadness that would befall his sister. Claire was the only one he truly worried for if he were to perish but knew she would have the support she needed to get through such a loss. Though they only had each other after all. Their name dying with him.

Chris stared dazedly up at the night sky. His brain a fog of confusion ever since he had been so abruptly woken from the brink of his untimely death. The feeling of the mysterious buzz of longing still humming just under his skin and in the base of his skull.

Furrowing his brows as the sled was roughly jolted going over a bump, Chris’s breath caught. His body ached from the damage the poison had been able to inflict before being neutralized by Sherry, and he knew recovery would take several weeks, perhaps months even. Chris silently prayed to the stars that the pain would not be permanent.

Scrunching up his face further, Chris fidgeted as he pressed his uninjured hand over the three marks Wesker’s fingers had left upon cauterizing the outside of the deep puncture. He traced them, over and over, and despite the ache from the burn, it was nowhere near as painful as the bubbled-up skin on his other hand. Chris was amazed the skin of his palm hadn’t sloughed off with the intensity of the burn.

Taking a deep breath into tender lungs, Chris froze, eyes widening, holding the breath in order to hear the distant heavy thudding approaching them. Horses. Several of them. The small traveling party jerked to a halt, Piers and Joseph quickly pulling up in front of Jill and Mana, who had been obediently pulling Chris along behind her.

Jostled by the sudden stop, Chris let the breath he had been holding out shakily as his heart pounded, eyes racking the darkness in front of him. He heard Jill’s mock loon call, and an answering response was quickly repeated, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, his body instantly melting with relief. They were their own. Voices muffled through his aching head, and suddenly someone was in his face, pawing at his cheeks and crying loudly. Chris could not stop the choked cry as they accidentally jarred his burned palm, “Fuck! Get off!!”

Instantly the person jerked back, gasping, and from what Chris could make from the last quarter moonlight, Claire's face manifested in his wavering vision. She was absolutely distraught with shocked relief, and it took him a moment to understand that his sister had come for him, and his expression crumpled in confusion, “Claire?”

A small hiccup escaped her, and she gripped his bicep in reassurance, eyes shining, “We received word from the House of Wesker that you were hurt badly. Nothing else was provided, so we left as soon as we could to find you.”

Chris shifted uneasily, his expression tightening from the sudden strain, “Yes. How... how much further are we?”

A heavy sigh escaped the redhead who was clad in deep blue traveling gear, eyes only for concern of her brother’s state, “Only a couple hours, at your pace anyways.”

Chris rolled his eyes, irritated at how long it was taking to return. He was exhausted and felt awful, and stank of death.

Claire crouched back on her haunches, holding back her desire to reassure herself that Chris was very much alive and kicking by smothering him in a crushing hug, “We will escort you back safely. We did not run across any beasts, so it should be an easy passage home.”

Chris stayed silent but nodded. He really wanted to be back home and clean and warm in front of the fire in his private quarters. Alone. Slowly nodding his head once more, Chris shuffled his uninjured hand out to grasp Claire’s hand and clasp their fingers together, “Thank you, Claire. For coming.”

Chris felt sudden deep overwhelming fatigue, and his head felt like a thousand pounds, and he could no longer keep it up. Seeing Claire and listening to the excited voices waft from behind him lulled him into a serene state. It sounded like Josh had taken lead of the rescue party. He was very thankful to have such level-headed knights to do what needed to be done, even in his absence, and a hard-headed sister. Taking in a deep breath, he allowed his body to settle once more and for sleep to overpower him.

.....

The return to the manor was uneventful, and Claire road the rear with Piers and Joseph, quietly picking their brains on what exactly had happened, her eyes never leaving Chris’s pale, slack face. He had passed out quickly after their short talk, exhaustion from the attack overwhelming him to oblivion. Claire could not blame him, he looked and smelled like death.

From what was being explained as they made their way back, Chris was on the brink of death and was saved by a shrine maiden being escorted back to her territory by the House of Wesker. Which was so very odd a situation that they happened to be at the right place at the moment of Chris’s impending death.

Claire was not wholly convinced it was all coincidence, but not sure what would be the driving force behind the chance meeting either, left it at that. It all sounded too fishy. Reengaging Piers and Joseph, she was able to pry most of the details of what happened from them but would pick Chris’s brain once they returned, not keen on the fact a fire starter had saved his life. Only he could tell her what really happened and if it was true if his savior was indeed the lord of House Wesker. It would be a very rude awakening for all of them if it was.

.....

Jill, Chris, Joseph, and Piers had been close to the manor before Claire, Josh, and the others had raced to meet them, who agreed to provide a full protective escort back to the House. The manor was not overly fancy or overly gaudy or decorated even. It was practical. A large enough homestead for the controlling House to be comfortable as well as provide for the community as a whole the best they were able. The area was self-sustaining with limited electricity from preserved solar cells and geothermal technology.

Their return was quietly received by Finn and Ben, as it was well after midnight, and the majority of the people were asleep, minus a few sentries rotating through the border watchtowers.

.....

Chris dreamt. Of what exactly, he was not sure, but whatever it was made him feel so very warm, and the humming had returned to the comforting buzzing from earlier. The same he had felt in the clearing when he violently awoke to Wesker crouched over him, fingers blazing and hot inside of his body and against his skin.

A sudden jolt tore him from the serene feeling as his eyes widened in panic, gasping, cheeks flushed, and heart racing. Rapidly, his gaze darted in every which direction until they focused on Claire’s concerned face, a hand against his forehead checking for fever.

She smiled slightly, patting his hair, whispering gently, “You’re home. You’re safe. And.. you kept your promise.”

Chris’s swallowed thickly, and his eyes rolled to examine his surroundings, silent for a moment gauging where they were and recognizing that they had indeed returned to the manor that the House of Redfield currently controlled. Returning glazed eyes back to Claire’s face, he grunted, voice hoarse, “How long?”

Claire sat back, helping to remove the bindings that had kept him in place during the return journey, “It’s almost dawn. It was slow travel, but you’re home. You have no idea how worried I’ve been. Out of nowhere, getting word from the House of Wesker of all places that you had been hurt. They didn’t even have the gall to let us know what happened! You could have been dead for all we knew!”

Bloodshot eyes opened wider and rolled in their sockets once more until they shakily locked onto Claire’s face, and Chris watched as tears sprouted at the corners of her eyes and as his arms were unbound, quickly reached a hand out to wipe them away, “Claire… you worry too much.”

She wrenched from his grasp, staring with blazing eyes, “No! I don’t worry enough! You don’t have my permission to leave ever again!” Letting his tired arm fall, he could only return her gaze with sad eyes, “Claire… I’m sorry. I will be alright. I just need …time. I… I’m so tired.”

Claire leaned in as she continued to assist in unbundling him, eyes alert. Chris wasn’t exactly sure what to say but tried to reassure her as his body slackened, eyes drooping, “I’ll be fine.”

Claire’s expression was obvious that she did not believe him, and Chris knew she wouldn’t. She was just as stubborn, if not more so than he was.

Swallowing and closing his eyes, his features pinched. He felt incredibly uncomfortable, and he grunted as the bindings around him were completely removed to release him from the cart in order to get him inside the manor.

Chris motioned for her to take his good hand to help him lean up. He was not completely out of the woods yet, and recovering would take some time, but at least he was no longer dying.

Chris stared at the conflicting blue full of fear and concern, and his expression grew heavy. He could not tell her about the pull he felt as death approached, that he could hear their parents call him by his full name, that they told him he needed to go back. One day he will tell her, but not today.

The sereness of death was like nothing he had ever felt before. The comforting warmth—which increased gradually, that is, until he had been ripped from unconsciousness and into the piercing, blazing pain of reality, and the smell of burning flesh as it felt like a red-hot poker had been jammed into his chest.

But, there was also something else at the time, something more. A comfort of sorts alongside the devastating pain. Something he was not sure Claire could or would ever understand. Even he couldn’t understand it.

.....

Finn and Ben had met them as the troupe had approached the long drive and were now helping Chris stand, one under each arm for support and helping him stumble into the large foyer, Claire at his side to steady him further. They maneuvered him to sit in front of the large fireplace as it was mid-fall, and the nights were already getting colder. Having lost quite a bit of blood, Ben quickly wrapped a thick blanket around Chris’s shoulders. Looking around, Chris noticed that Claire had veered off to parts unknown.

Finn patted Chris’s shoulder and handed him a water canteen which he drank greedily, emptying it and setting it next to where he has slumped into the chair he had been deposited in. After a quick once over and asking if he needed anything, upon which Chris shook his head slowly, Finn and Ben had returned to help the others unload the horses and stable them.

Chris shivered now that he was not bound tightly despite the thick blanket, and he stared at the very small welcoming party who was shuffling around him and bringing items in from the spoils of the slain Yawn.

Claire suddenly approached with Lottie in tow, her face stern, and Chris could not help but smile at the older woman as she playfully swatted the back of his head, “When we received word you had been injured, I nearly had a heart attack! You know I’ve got too much shit to worry about without having to plan your damn funeral!”

Chris put his good hand up in defeat as she quickly went to work, and he allowed her to check over the cauterized wound like a mother hen. He grit his teeth and eyed Claire, who stood next to him, arms crossed tightly, staring accusingly. She was worried that he had no doubt, and he was waiting for the outburst.

Finally, Claire broke her silence after allowing him to rest the remainder of the journey back home. Despite getting the story from Piers and Joseph, she wanted Chris’s version, “What happened? Why did we receive notice from the House of Wesker?”

Squinting as he was poked and prodded, his hand now being unwrapped from the hasty field dressing by Lottie’s steady hands. Some of the bubbles had broken and started oozing from the severe burn only to dry against the dressing, making Chris flinch at it was removed. The older woman looked at him with unease, her anger dissipated as she examined him further.

Claire eyed the severity of the burn as his hand trembled in Lottie’s, who was disinfecting the angry red burns.

Chris took a shuddering breath, lurching slightly as an open bubble was cleaned, “I was bit during the fight, and the Lord of the House of Wesker just so happened to be traveling in the area as I was laid up and dying in the dirt. He… he did this.”

Chris pressed his hand over his exposed side, his shirt having been pulled open, and he looked down, able to examine the closed wound for the first time in the bright firelight. The skin was an angry pink but didn’t look like it would be reopening back up any time soon. That is unless he did something stupid, but Chris wasn’t planning on doing any acrobatics any time soon.

Lottie stood, gaining Chris’s attention, forcing his tired eyes to capture her forceful gaze, hands on her hips, “You are in surprisingly good shape for almost dying, Christopher. Wash up. You reek of dead reptile. When you’re done, I’ll put balm on the burn and rewrap that hand. Sound fair? I know you hate when people hover, so I’ll leave you to it.”

Chris couldn’t deny that, and he nodded silently, watching as she took her leave. Claire stepped into the now-vacated space where Lottie had been crouched and irritated, repeated her question, “What happened?”

Chris sighed, wary and just wanting to rest in the comfort and quiet of his room, undisturbed, “I told you, I was bit, Claire, and House Wesker was escorting a healer back to Chambers’ territory. She neutralized the poison, and he… he used his skill to cauterize the deep wound.”

Claire huffed, “He who?”

Chris stared up dumbly at her, eyes glazing as he said the name, “Albert.”

Throwing her arms up like she was talking to a wall, Claire raised her voice, “WHO is Albert?!”

Chris’s expression did not change, used to her short bursts of anger, “Albert is the lord of House Wesker.”

Claire’s shock was expected as she bowed over him, hissing in astonishment, “THE lord?!! OF House WESKER! Are you fucking serious, Chris?!”

Chris winced at the rising tone, and he cringed away from her. Claire backed off, eyes wide and bright, but did not relent her tirade.

The lord of the House of Wesker was notorious for being a very selfish, manipulative bastard who truly followed the agreement of the Houses keeping to themselves. Rarely hearing him leaving his lands, much less traveling with a representative from another House.

Claire could not grasp how such a selfish lord provided Chris help in order to save his life. She whispered in shocked exasperation, “You owe him a life debt!”

Chris’s exhaustion and irritation peaked, and he snapped at her, wrenching himself forward and immediately shrinking into himself from the jarring agony, “You think I don’t fucking know that, Claire!”

Heads turned, and she had stepped back from the cold, icy glare. Steeling her own blue eyes coldly, she turned her nose up at him and quickly made her way to help the others get things settled. It was incredibly late, and everyone was reeling from the attack and fatigued from the incredibly long day.

Chris ran a tired shaky hand down his face to cover his eyes, pinching them to try and keep the desire to succumb to a healing rest at bay. A sudden whiff of blood had him reeling, and he jerked his head upward to cough and sucked in a clean breath. Slowly getting to his feet, he finally relented that he indeed needed to bathe and get all the blood and guts off him. Motioning Jill over, he allowed her to assist him to his rooms.

.....

Chris finally had a moment to himself, and after Lottie had scolded him several times for moving about, he relented on taking the hot bath his aching body craved after such a harrowing day and settled for a quick shower instead.

Still feeling very weak, Chris asked for Jill to stay with him and accompany him to the large shower room in the instance he collapsed. Not caring if she saw his nudity, he stripped himself from his ruined blood-stained clothes and slowly made his way to the shower, turning the water as hot as it could go and dragging himself under the forceful spray.

Chris cried out quietly in shock as the hot water burned his hand where he had grabbed Wesker’s wrist, and he leaned the unaffected side of the trembling hand against the wall to prevent further contact with the steaming water. He noted he would have to have Lottie come to have it properly wrapped.

Jill stood just in the doorway to the large bathroom, eyeing him warily but silent as he slowly washed off the blood that had encrusted his entire right side and leg. Chris ignored her and watched the swirling red be swept down the drain until the water ran clear.

Chris’s mind prickled with anxiety, but not that of panic. No. This was that same feeling that had not left since the blazing finger of Lord Wesker had awoken him as he was cauterizing his internal wound, and Chris absently ran his fingers over the seared flesh for what felt like the millionth time.

It felt like giddy anticipation of unbridled excitement, and he tried to push it down to no avail. It had been some time since he had been overwhelmed in such a capacity, and he had forgotten what it felt like to feel such an emotional torrent of curiosity.

But it didn’t make sense. He didn’t even know Wesker. Barely knew anything of the area itself since each House decided ten years before to take care of their own lands and maintain watch along their outside borders for any further raider attacks. That was all. The House of Wesker had been notorious for following that to a T, rarely leaving their community.

It was odd to have learned that the heir to the House of Wesker was engaged to a healer. It just seemed so very unlikely the House of Wesker would allow anyone so deep into their territory, much less let outsiders marry into it.

Chris was starting to tremble as the water was already turning lukewarm as he finished scrubbing off the last bit of smeared blood. Jill’s voice startled him from his preoccupation, “You’re getting tired. Do you need any help?”

Chris looked over his shoulder at her, eyes fatigued with dark bags, “I’ll be fine, I’m almost done. Water’s getting cold.”

Jill nodded as he turned back to the tile and quickly rinsed his hair of the sweat and dust from the battle. Chris could hear her shuffling around the room now, likely looking for towels and his robe, thankful for her companionship. He was truly glad she was here. Otherwise, there would be incessant non-stop questions from Claire or one of the other knights. Questions that he had no real answers to.

Sighing deeply, he turned off the water that had run cold and ran his hands down his body to remove any excess water. Jill handed him a towel, and he graciously took it, setting his feet firmly apart to stabilize his weak frame as he toweled down.

Jill eyed him in passing as he dried off and eventually handed him his rode which he took and slowly slipped around his shoulders, tying it closed loosely covering his nudity as he stepped away to move into his bedroom, practically crumpling onto a well-used chaise lounge next to the fire and dropping his face into his hands.

Jill moved to his side and ran a hand over his shoulder in support, not sure exactly what he needed but offering her services and friendship none-the-less. There was a time when she could provide any such comforts to her ailing lord, but that time had passed in mutual agreeance.

On occasion, they had the rare moment where needs rose to the surface, and one thing would lead to another, and they would be fucking and sucking and moaning and twisted in sweat-drenched sheets. But those moments were few and far between and usually ended up with Chris looking even more forlorn the day after.

She shifted so that he could press his head against her abdomen, and she could feel him trembling as she ran her fingers through his damp hair in reassurance. Chris swallowed and slowly leaned back, and Jill shifted her hands to clasp his cheeks lightly, “I’ll… be fine, Jill. Thank you. Could you send Lottie up? My hand… It needs to be treated before the blisters burst even more. It hurts like a bitch.”

Jill’s hands lingered upon his cheeks, rubbing along the stubble, and he allowed it. They had been through so much together, and she knew he would not deny her this little bit of intimacy. She looked down at him, at how tired he had become and not just from almost dying. However, there was something different in his usually cold, melancholy expression. Something she could not place, an apprehension of sorts, a small brightness, and it made her smile, “Alright. But if you need anything, and I mean anything, don’t hesitate.”

She pressed her lips to his forehead for a brief moment and then let go and stepped away. She lingered in the doorway to glance at the huddled form one last time before taking her leave to find Lottie. The older woman certainly had her hands full running the manor, and Jill could barely keep up with her sometimes.

.....

Chris watched the quick work of Lottie’s skilled hands. She was confident and accurate in every task, and he was so grateful she was the overseer of the House along with her wife Bolanle, directing everyone and everything and managing the daily ins and outs along with raising their own brood.

He listened to her chastise him for getting himself in another death-defying incident, and he just nodded his head in sincere acceptance. Chris stopped her suddenly by gently grasping her hands, “Lottie, if I may ask, how did you know Bolanle was the one?” He stared at her dark knowing eyes as she smiled gently, her response not quite what he was expecting, “Such an odd question to ask out of nowhere, Chris.”

She searched his face silently, who looked conflicted before resuming her task, bandaging his hand loosely in light muslin, “It didn’t happen right away if that is what you are asking. Actually, the first time we met, we argued, and she stormed off, calling me an ingrate. Of all things! Ah, but the woman, I love her so much.” She chuckled as she felt Chris stiffen as she said the word ‘ingrate,’ and he shifted his eyes from her face to quickly dart back and forth dazedly, even more disoriented.

The answer was not helpful in the least. Chris could not place the swirling thoughts centered around Wesker. Everything about him. Something he could not quite place and why he felt so compelled by the other’s presence. No, it wasn’t infatuation. Could it? Curiosity? Maybe. Lust? Hmm, not likely. But then again, the other man was handsomely gorgeous. Maybe that was it? Frustrated, Chris now had even more questions than answers and a small heat in his belly that he quickly tried to ignore.

Startled when a hand touched his shoulder, Lottie gazed down at his exhausted countenance, “Rest, Christopher. You need your strength. I’ll have someone check on you throughout the night to make sure you’re breathing and to bring you breakfast in the morning. That is, if you are even awake. Otherwise, just rest.” Chris smiled and patted her hand, “Thank you, Lottie. I would be absolutely lost without you. If something were ever to happen to me, I leave this House in your capable hands.”

She smiled slightly and nodded her head, squeezing the hand on his shoulder, knowing full well he meant every word. Everything had been decided after the death of his parents that if something were to happen to Chris, she would take the House, being a fully capable ice wielder herself and a no-shit taker.

As she took her leave, Chris settled into the chaise, preferring it over his large bed. Pulling heavy covers over him and settling in next to the comforting fire, he watched the flames flicker to and frow and thought of Wesker’s hair and the raging slitted eyes that were as red as blood and glowing with their own inner light. Never before had he seen such a powerful manifestation. Even during the raider wars, the fire starters he had observed were nowhere near as powerful.

Chris’s brow furrowed deeply as he watched the glowing embers. Inconceivable, all of it. Why had he not remembered Albert’s name from the war? Chris remembered that the fire starters had been greatly influential in the success of quelling the raiders, but no one from the House of Wesker particularly stood out in his memories.

He knew bits and pieces of what led up to his parent’s deaths and how it had something to do with the House of Wesker family, but nothing about Albert specifically. Then again, he was dealing with the existential loss of both parents at the time, so it could just have been an oversight. Chris made a mental note to ask Barry once they convened. Everything about the blonde man was extremely distracting. Too distracting.

Chris frowned at the dancing flames and turned over, which caused his side to scream in agony, and he couldn’t stop the loud sound that escaped his lips. Huffing in irritation, Chris turned back towards the fire, scowling. He did **not** have time for such distractions. Especially not from someone who may very well be inadvertently responsible for his parents’ deaths. But then again, that was just a poor assumption on his part. He needed to stay impartial until he had all the facts. Not to mention, everything had happened so long ago, and the painful memories had started to fade.

Chris had accepted that it would be unlikely for him ever to find a mate or be a part of something more in this world and had decided to dedicate himself to his people. To protect them and suffer in their place. Chris had spent several years partnered alongside Jill, but they were more comrades than lovers, and they agreed to be just that, minus the occasional ‘benefit’ to scratch the itch.

There was so much at stake if what seemed to be happening along the borders was happening, and no one could see that something was amiss in the region—the sudden increase in beasts and attacks. The strangeness surrounding Wesker should be the least of his concerns.

Yet, Chris still could not just push aside the humming. It was still there, solemn almost.

Perhaps he had truly died, and something had crept back with him from the other side.

Or maybe it did have something to do with Wesker.

A week. It would be a week before he saw the other lord again. Chris felt the wound again, running his fingers gently over the smoothed skin, remembering the brutal pain undulating from the other’s touch.

The convening would be a test to see if indeed the other man had something to do with the odd feeling. At least being in the physical presence of Wesker would confirm it, and if he were responsible, Chris would corner him and demand to know what sorcery he was using and to put an end to it entirely.

Chris forced the circular thoughts to quiet as he gazed, mesmerized by the swirling flames. The last thing he could remember before he succumbed to sleep was imagining the confident smirk of the lord of House Wesker and how tempting it would be to allow it to consume him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lottie calls Chris Christopher because after his parents' deaths, she stepped in to be a parent figure. She is the only one who he allows to call him Christopher.

**Author's Note:**

> SherryMoonZombie mentioned they liked a world similar to Adventure Time and I will try and do something along those lines as I also mix in the future world landscape concept similar to Vampire Hunter D (I love me some VHD).
> 
> Very, very loose clothing concepts for some of the characters as I imagined them looking as I wrote the first chapter. Subject to change of course. And to be honest, I've made it vague enough to identify colors, but you can imagine them wearing whatever you want.
> 
> Wesker, the man will never be caught wearing any other color...  
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/228909593545526343/  
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/341077371787479310/
> 
> House of Wesker Knights/Jake, surprisingly not great examples of reds  
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/637963103467089742/  
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/509329039113928260/
> 
> Chris/Redfield Knights - meh, still looking  
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/337136722109151502/
> 
> Sherry – Lighter variation of below  
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/396246467220614156/
> 
> Sheva – something functional where she can still fight and not be hindered by bulky armor  
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/631278072765095213/
> 
> I’ve been dying over this image and music for months and months (before this concept was birthed) that this would be how I imagine Sergei would look if I ever did a fantasy/medieval AU
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_LoU7GALAM
> 
> And now I can imagine it because he will show up at some point, because I have a soft spot for that evil bastard > :D


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